


A Very Good Choice

by tuesday



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Consent Issues, M/M, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2019-11-16 15:22:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18096959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: "I'd say I'll be gentle, but," Tony shrugged one shoulder as he struggled with his belt, "I don't think either of us is in any position to be making promises here."





	A Very Good Choice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LearnedFoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/gifts).



> Peter is somewhere in the 18-19 range here, past IW, but not super far past it. Tony and Pepper are not together. Please heed the tags. This leans heavily into the hurt side of hurt/comfort.
> 
> This was written and put in the collection way before Endgame came out. It is a weakness of canon dropping in between posting and the collection opening that I can't know what's going to happen, but hopefully this is enjoyable despite whatever it may get wrong. Also, it's a sex pollen fic. It's not that deep.
> 
> Also, thank you very much to Duckmoles for your corrections and suggestions!
> 
> Redating for reveals. This was originally posted 3/13, though the collection didn't open until 5/20. Sorry if you managed to see it twice!

"I've never even—" Peter made a gesture that made zero sense but nevertheless got his meaning across.

If Tony were a better man, that would dampen his ardor, would be the thing to finally douse the fire running through his veins. If anything, it made it worse, the thought that he would be Peter's first.

 _Play your cards right, and that could be Peter’s only_ , Tony thought, because he was a terrible, terribly possessive person who was already getting off on this.

"I'd say I'll be gentle, but," Tony shrugged one shoulder as he struggled with his belt, "I don't think either of us is in any position to be making promises here."

Peter scrambled out of his suit, hopping a little trying to get his left foot free, as Tony shed his clothes. They were probably far enough away that they wouldn't get hit with any more of the pollen. Tony hoped so, anyway.

"Peter. Pete." Peter fell over, sprawled across the forest floor. "Kid, that's nanotech, for all it operates like fabric when you tell it to. You can hit the quick release."

Tony knelt down beside Peter and tapped the emblem in the right spots in sequence for the override. The suit withdrew into itself, which looked kind of like it was dissolving to the untrained eye, then coalesced into a box, creating its own casing, but Peter ignored it all to grab Tony and pull him flush against Peter's mostly naked body. Peter kissed with zero finesse, all stiff lips and too much tongue. Tony could show him better later. Right now, he was too distracted by the feeling of Peter's skin hot against his own and the overwhelming urge to rub himself against every inch of it.

"You feel so good." Peter sounded bewildered. "You're, oh, you're so warm."

Peter was wearing cheap cotton boxers that offended Tony on a personal level, and he plucked at them with one hand. "Off. I need these off yesterday."

Peter helped push them down, and it was so much better, even as it was much, much worse. He was wet, had leaked all over the fly of his boxers and left plenty behind to slick his dick, which slid against Tony's own in the most maddening way, fanning the flames, not helping at all. Tony would like to say that one of them acted like they had any experience in this situation, but the truth was he was just grinding helplessly down as Peter thrust up, humping like a couple of teenagers. Peter got his hands on Tony's ass, digging in bruises. He licked his lower lip as he looked down his body into the space between them as it expanded, then bit down when it contracted again.

"So you've—you've done nothing," Tony said, not sure if he was trying to get absolute, irrefutable confirmation here before doing something he couldn't take back or if he was trying to lure Peter into engaging in a little dirty talk.

"Only … you know." Peter's voice was breathless.

"No, kid, I don't know." Oh, it was both; it was definitely both. "Why don't you tell me? Spare no detail."

"I, uh, I've touched myself." Peter's next thrust up was more vigorous than his last one. "A lot."

Fuck. "Just your dick, or—?"

Peter's face was bright red. Tony didn't think it was all down to the pollen or the physical exertion. "No."

"Use your words." But Tony found it difficult to use his own, pleasure and need only arching higher, screwing tighter, feeling simultaneously like he was flying and like he was wrapped so tight he might break.

"I. I tried—" Peter shut his eyes, movements growing erratic. "Mr. Stark—Mr. Stark—Tony—I can't."

Tony kissed him, a simple press of their lips together that shifted every time he did. Peter flipped them, pressing Tony down into the loam of the forest floor and rutting mindlessly against him. Tony spread his legs and welcomed it.

It wasn't—it wasn't getting better.

"Can I—is it okay if I'm glad it's you?" Peter asked.

"That works out perfectly," Tony said, "because if this had to happen with someone, I feel like I'm a very good choice."

Peter huffed something like a laugh. He licked at Tony's throat, then sucked a mark there. Tony suddenly had to know, had to have confirmation of the rest of that bitten back sentence.

"Show me." Tony clawed at Peter's back, feeling like he was holding onto sanity by his fingernails. "Come on, Peter, show me. What did you try?"

In answer, Peter hitched Tony's thigh up against his hip and slid his hand up between them, under them, rubbing at the dry skin of Tony's asshole with the tips of his fingers, then sliding one in. This hadn't been quite what Tony had meant, but he was happy to take this first, too.

Peter seemed determined to give it to him, inserting a second finger even as he said, "I shouldn't. I shouldn't—"

"You should," Tony said fervently. It wasn't like he was a complete stranger to the act, nor to taking it dry on one very ill-considered, poorly prepared night that had taken entirely too long even as it had been over very, very fast. But it hadn't been like this, where every touch of Peter's fingers as they fumbled against his prostate was like lightning up his spine. "You really, really should. Right now."

Peter withdrew his fingers and let Tony go. Tony turned over in a fast scramble aided by Peter pushing at his hip. Peter gripped Tony by the waist and slid his dick between Tony's ass cheeks, which was good, but not good enough. Peter said, "I don't want to hurt you."

Tony got his arms under him, then his knees, rising up and meeting Peter. "You're killing me here. Put me out of my misery and _stick it in_."

Peter did, the blunt head of his cock feeling like it was going to split Tony apart. Tony sobbed with it. It should have been terrible, too much and too dry, an ordeal to be endured. Instead, it was bliss with every inch of Tony filled up. He thought he would die from it.

"That's it," Tony panted. "Give it to me."

Peter snapped his hips, seating himself in one sudden, almost violent motion, and a very small, very distant part of Tony held onto just enough rationality to be concerned that he was likely either about to be very hurt or already there. The rest of him was driving him to try to rock back into Peter, to spread his legs and take as much as Peter had to give him.

"I'm sorry," Peter said. "I can't—I'm so sorry, but I can't stop."

Tony wanted to tell him not to apologize, to reassure him that they were both in this together, to say that even sober, Tony would've been happy to have Peter any way he could get him, but Peter's next thrust knocked the breath out of him. It was so hard that his hands slid in the loam, failed to gain purchase. His knees skidded forward. The only thing keeping him up, his ass in the air, was Peter's harsh grip. Tony's face hit the forest floor.

Peter didn't stop. He fucked Tony single-mindedly, focused only on his own pleasure. Tony's own ecstasy wasn't even secondary, was an unintended side effect, was entirely down to the strange pollen they'd breathed in and which had lit a fire in their blood. What was driving Peter was what let Tony be taken there, too, every roll of Peter's hips bringing Tony closer and closer to the edge. When Peter finally pushed Tony over, he screamed with it, feeling like he was being burned up, being consumed.

Tony went limp, and Peter kept going. Tony's heart thundered in his ears. He was too high on endorphins for it to hurt, but he knew it was waiting, that at any moment the bliss and lassitude overwhelming him were going to flip over and become something much, much worse. He held onto them for as long as he could.

It wasn't long enough.

 _Don't tense up_ , he told himself. _Whatever you do, don't tense up._

As before, his body didn't listen to him. It hurt. It had never hurt like this, even his most unpleasant encounter being something he could laugh off as stupid kids making stupid decisions and which had gone on to be the impetus for him keeping lube in the glove compartment of every car he'd ever owned. Now that Tony could think a little more clearly, he realized Peter was crying, wretched little puffs of breath that barely made a sound.

"It's okay," Tony said softly. It was Peter. Of course it was okay. "You heard me, Peter. I wanted this. I _asked_ for this." He gave up on trying to push himself upright and put a hand over Peter's on his poor, bruised hip. "There's nothing you could do to me that I wouldn't welcome. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

"I can't," Peter said again, his voice a wreck. He didn't sound like a person in control of himself. He sounded like he was fraying, like he was one snapped thread from unraveling entirely.

"You can. You're resilient and brilliant and amazing." Peter groaned. "You, ah, you can do anything you put your mind to." Tony felt lightheaded. The fire in his veins had turned to smoke, left him foggy, faint. "You're going to make it through this and you're going to be just fine."

" _I can't_."

"What can I do? Tell me what I can do to help, and I'll do it." Assuming Tony could get to it before he passed out, but that wasn't information Peter needed right now.

"Tell me—" Peter made a choked noise. "Say something nice about me. Just. Make something up."

Tony had bullshitting skills on par with the most experienced master, but he didn't need them here. "You, oh, you're one of the best people I know. You're—" Tony cut off at the next thrust, breathed through it. "You're such an unabashedly good person. You're so bright." Tony felt a little like he was going to be sick, not just the pain, but also from hitting the low after the high of before. It felt like he'd been poisoned or maybe like he could finally process his body trying to reject the pollen and its effects. He pushed through, thinking nonsensically, _Don't do drugs, kids_. "You amaze me. You're always surprising me. Every time I think I couldn't possibly—" No, fuck, he wasn't planning to give that up. Desperately, he redirected. "You're great. You're the best person I know."

"Couldn't what?" Peter asked.

Tony shook his head. Then, because this was Peter's, knowledge that belonged to him, and because he'd asked, "Every time I think I couldn't possibly love you more, you prove me wrong. Every day. Every single day."

"Tony," Peter said frantically. "Tony, I—"

Peter came. He said something else, but Tony couldn't hear it over the rushing in his ears. When Tony went limp this time, it was because the darkness that had been dancing at the corners of his vision dragged him down.

He was only out for a few seconds, probably, but that was enough time for Peter to really work himself up. He had his fingers pressed against Tony's neck, searching out a pulse, and he was crying in earnest now. Tony swatted limply at his hand. "Don't bury me yet."

Peter straightened, wiping at his eyes. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"No way in hell," Tony said firmly. "Help me get my pants on. I can't have thrown them that far."

"You're hurt."

"So are you, and I don't see me trying to force you to undergo a humiliating situation to salve _my_ conscience," Tony snapped. He took in a slow, measured breath and held it a moment. "There's a perfectly good infirmary at the compound stocked with the best scanners available. Help me get my pants on, help me back to the compound, and we'll call in this area to be quarantined. People in full hazmat gear can come and take samples of the original experiment, plus whatever hell-spawn mutations resulted from the accidental cross-pollination, then destroy the rest. But I am not risking going out in public like this."

Peter looked horrible—he looked defeated—but he found Tony's clothes. He helped him get dressed—did most of the work, actually—then pulled on his own, reactivating the suit. Tony tried to stand, but that didn't go so well. Peter lifted him, toting him along in a princess carry. Tony had no dignity left. He went with it.

The hike back felt longer than the hike out to check on the escaped samples.

"I'm sorry," Peter said. His voice was thick. His eyes shone with unshed tears.

Tony rested his head on Peter's shoulder. He sighed. "Yeah. Me, too."

"Thank you for—" Peter cleared his throat. "I know you had to, but thank you for pretending—" Peter cleared his throat again, then coughed. He wasn't very experienced at acting like he wasn't crying again, but a pessimistic part of Tony thought he'd get better at that, too.

"Kid." Tony was weary, and it came through in his voice. "I meant every word I said."

"Oh." Peter stopped walking for a moment, and Tony patted him on the shoulder.

"Onward, noble steed. I really do need the infirmary."

Peter got moving. Quietly, he said, "I meant it, too."

That was potentially promising. The only problem was Tony had to admit, "I kind of passed out at the end there. Tell me again?"

Peter said it simply, matter-of-factly. "I love you, too."

"Huh."

"That's what you're going with? 'Huh?'"

"I said it first," Tony said defensively.

"Yeah." Peter sounded pleased. "You did."

—

The upside was that somehow, miraculously, Tony hadn't torn anything. The downside was that he was not dealing well with the pollen now that he was past the desperately horny stage. He was cold, dizzy, and had spent ten minutes dry-heaving into an infirmary trash bin while Peter rubbed soothing circles in his back.

"I don't think we're going to be able to market this as the new Viagra with these side effects," Tony said.

Peter shuddered. "I thought we'd agreed that we were burning it all."

"The next time SHIELD asks if they can grow something in our backyard, I'm telling them no." Tony leaned into Peter, who had an arm around him. They were huddled together on one of the infirmary cots.

Peter was quiet. He said, hesitantly, "I'm still glad it was you."

Tony was in a lot of pain. He would without question rate the whole experience in the top ten of worst attempts at sex in his life. He never wanted it to happen like that _ever again_ , no matter how delighted he was at the prospect of Peter in his bed or the fact that he'd give anything to make sure it was both on a permanent basis and more than that.

Tony said, completely sincere, "Me, too."


End file.
